


Versions

by fizzfooz



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Rescue, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 15:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21283754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzfooz/pseuds/fizzfooz
Summary: For the prompt "torture".
Comments: 3
Kudos: 58
Collections: Ignis whump October bingo 19





	Versions

Sometimes, Ignis can see Prompto in Verstael's face like a foundation that the years have been built around. Then he smiles in that sadistic way he has and any resemblance vanishes. From the snatches of conversation Ignis has picked up when they think he's insensible with pain, the staff in this facility mostly assist on experiments with daemons. They seem to find the human experimentation distasteful but not enough to actually do anything to prevent it. They have no sympathy at all for the clones with Prompto's face who they treat like cattle and vivisect right beside Ignis.

“Fira,” Verstael says.

At first Ignis had resisted and then they'd brought in Gladio and... well... It didn't matter that Gladio would rather endure any kind of pain than give in because it mattered to Ignis a great deal more that they didn't amputate his arms and legs without anaesthesia.

He tries not to think about what new technology Niflheim are making with the knowledge they gain every time he gives in. Tries even harder not to think about what they're doing with it. Insomnia is gone but there are plenty of other cities where they can still unleash their frightful machines.

So he infuses the clone with Fira like he's nothing more than a dagger. It hadn't worked the first few times. All he'd done was set the clone on fire. For the most part the clones aren't any more responsive than the fish Noctis had caught. But they still feel pain. They still scream in Prompto's voice. They're still _alive_. Still human.

Ignis doesn't know how many he killed in the early stages of the experiments. He couldn't bear to count.

But Verstael's tutelage is as helpful as it is monstrous and eventually, he can... gift the magic to them. The clones don't really know what to do with the power. They use it when the scientists stimulate parts of their brains with electric probes but otherwise they... One of them gripped his finger once during an experiment and brought it to his mouth. Like a baby, Ignis had realised. They are adult in size but they aren't developed. As aware as newborns.

He doesn't know if that makes it worse that he's killed them. Or better. Neither is okay. But Verstael isn't interested in Gladio so long Ignis co-operates and he knows that no matter how many more he has to murder, he will do it.

When he's not experimenting with Ignis' magic, Verstael demands answers that Ignis doesn't have. Why can he do the things he can do? Why can he heal? Why can he pass on power the way the Lucis Caelums can? A lot of the glaives can – could? Are there any left? – do similar things, he tries to explain, but it's not something that Verstael seems to be able to accept. At one point Verstael convinced himself that Ignis was an illegitimate child of Regis'. He isn't. Verstael proved it with a paternity test. Ignis doesn't want to know how Verstael acquired the necessary fluids for DNA testing. At least he knows it's not Noct's DNA. Noct escaped the invasion. Regis and Clarus and the council and Ignis' uncle are all dead but Noct escaped. That was the one thing he had to cling to. Noct had escaped and while he lived, things were never truly hopeless.

Outside of the experiments, Ignis can't access his magic. It must be part of the same technology that allowed them to punch a hole in Insomnia's Wall. It's distressing, like one of his senses has been cut off, but no more distressing than anything else here.

Ignis knows not to get his hopes up when his magic returns without a visit from Verstael. It's most likely a malfunction. Even when the door to his cell slides open, he cannot quite bring himself to believe it. It's only the reality of Ravus Nox Fleuret standing outside that snaps him out of it.

“Get moving, Scientia,” he says, and then he's gone.

Ignis summons his daggers. He can still fight because Verstael needed to keep him healthy. Every time pity for the cowering scientists tries to possess him, he remembers that they watched the clones burn to death and only complained about having to clean up the remains. Most of the soldiers are Magitek and whatever in them was human – the clones, innocent and unaware – burned up long ago. At least these ones he can dispatch without guilt.

When he catches up with Ravus, he's supporting Gladio on his shoulder and Gladio is missing a leg. Its been amputated at the knee and Ignis' mind refuses to process any information when he sees it. He cooperated in exchange for Gladio's safety. He did everything they asked.

“Snap out of it,” Gladio snarls. He summons his sword in the arm he isn't using to cling to Ravus for balance.

The two of them look like an odd, three-legged, three-armed creature with two swords for extra appendages. Hysterical laughter bubbles up from Ignis' chest. Can they really fight like that?

“Please fall apart in your own time,” Ravus says.

They move surprisingly fast despite the two of them sniping at each other with every step. Ignis has to catch up again. And they can fight. Even incapacitated and off-balance, the Magitek are a poor match for their combined strength.

Things are odd and dreamy as they move through the facility, Ignis mostly fighting by instinct. They pass other allies. Cor, Monica, a handful of glaives, Weskham Armaugh who Ignis recognised only from a photo that used to live on Regis' desk, and finally...

“Noct.”

He's fighting. Warping and wielding spectral swords. Prompto is too. Firing his guns at range to support Noct's blind spots.

“The touching reunion will have to wait,” Ravus says, hauling Gladio along. “Do not stand and stare, Scientia. We must leave.”

They hurry into the snow where an airship is waiting.

“Get the fuck inside,” says a white-haired woman Ignis doesn't recognise.

When they do, he's amazed to find that Lady Lunafreya is there, treating the injured. Ravus lays Gladio down next to her despite his protests that there wasn't much they could do about it now. More glaives. Even some (human) Niflheim soldiers who don't seem to be captives. There are clones too. Around two dozen of them or varying ages. Ignis stays far away from them and instead returns to the woman at the entrance hatch.

“We've got them,” she's saying into a mouthpiece. “Everyone haul ass back to the ship.” She looks at Ignis askance when she notices him. “Hey. Get back inside. We didn't bust our asses rescuing you just sos you could die of pneumonia.”

It's true that Ignis isn't dressed for Niflheim's climate but he isn't feeling the cold at the moment. “How long have Gladio and I been here?”

“I dunno, kid. But you're out now.”

She moves to defend the ship as their allies trickle out of the facility. Some of them bring more clones, or prisoners. The last to emerge are Prompto and Noct and it puts a lump in his throat to know that Noct wouldn't leave until everyone else was accounted for.

“Specs?” Noct said. “Come on, you're shivering.”

In a daze, Ignis returned to the carrier, which was full of relieved laughter and chatter and people sharing food and drinks. Some even trying to engage with the clones. It takes off as soon as they're inside, the white-haired women bellowing orders at the Niflheim soldiers.

Gladio hops over to them, ignoring Luna's concerned protests. He leans on Ignis who clings to him as if he's the one being supported. Prompto bursts into tears the moment he claps eyes on them and clings to them so tightly Ignis' organs feel like they're merging.

“Gladio, how--” Noct begins.

“Not now,” Gladio says. “Iris?”

“She's alive. She's safe. Guys, you--”

“Never mind. Get over here, Noct.”

They pull Noct into the hug and then he's crying too and they're all crying and it's an absolute, embarrassing mess but Ignis can't stop. They'd probably all collapse into a heap if they weren't holding onto each other.

###

Sometimes, Ignis can see Verstael in Prompto's face. Then he laughs or blushes or does something that is purely Prompto and it's gone. Gladio lost his leg when he escaped from his cell. The automated doors had posed no great barrier to his monstrous strength. He hadn't gotten very far and Verstael had punished him for it. Cid and Cindy took in the clones at Hammerhead. Every time Ignis saw them they had learned more words or were doing something new around the garage. They showed an aptitude for engineering whether through nature or nurture. With Cid's guidance and some reverse engineering of Ravus' arm, they managed to make a prosthetic for Gladio. They adored Prompto who treated them like younger siblings. They'd run up to greet him like a pack of puppies whenever he visited.

Ignis kept his distance from them both physically and emotionally. The others didn't ask about it but he suspected they'd pieced some of it together. Even Prompto didn't push for him to get to know them. Didn't even show him the photos he gleefully shared with Noct and Gladio.

The nightmares never abate and often when they wake him, Ignis has to watch Prompto sleeping – whole and unharmed – before his heart rate would settle down. Like now, sharing a tent in the Myrlwood.

“Hey,” Gladio said. “You doing okay?”

Ignis considered pretending he was asleep. “I'm fine. Just a touch of insomnia.”

“Yeah. Me too. My leg itches.” He shifted the Magitek one. “Can't exactly scratch it.”

“Gladio,” Ignis says warningly. They haven't talked about it. What happened in the facility. What Ignis was made to do. He'd thought that they were both happy with that status quo and he can't possibly imagine why Gladio would bring it up now.

“You ain't a monster, Iggy.”

That makes Ignis choke up and he fights the urge to burrow back into his sleeping bag until Gladio shuts up. “I butchered--”

“You didn't. You didn't up and decide you were gonna do that shit on your own. You saw what that asshole did to the rest of 'em. And what about everyone else, huh? Every glaive, every Crownsguard. We've all killed Magitek and we didn't even know. You gonna avoid the survivors for the rest of your life cause of something you couldn't stop? How's that gonna help them?”

“I--”

“It's bullshit. I get it. I understand. But it's bullshit. You ain't protecting them. You're protecting yourself.”

###

Around the campfire and a meal of grilled fish, Prompto was sharing photos again. Ignis slid his camp chair closer to him.

“What do you have there?”

“Oh, uh...” Prompto frantically skimmed ahead. “You wanna see the ones where Noct slapped Gladio in the face with that fish?”

“Hey!” Gladio said.

“No, I...” How to broach this? It would be very strange of him to start asking to see pictures of the clones now. “What were you sharing with Noct?”

“Oh. Uh.” Prompto shows him a few shots of the clones – he really should stop thinking of them like that. He doesn't think of Prompto as simply 'a clone'. They're all pressing their fists together. “I taught them to fist bump. They're kinda getting the hang of it?” The last image is a harried-looking Cid fending off six fist-bumps, with Cindy doubled over laughing.

It's a very cute picture. One of the smaller ones is being carried on one of the older ones' shoulders. It makes a scrim of tears blur his eyes. But Ignis swallows and makes himself smile. “Tell me about them,” he says.

“You sure?”

Ignis nods because he can't trust his voice again.

“Okay, so,” Prompto says, pulling a scrapbook out of the armiger. Cid had given him an old film camera and the book is filled with photos from that, all of the clones, as well as little mementos from each of them.

Gladio and Noct make themselves scarce as he launches into the life history of each of them, Gladio slapping Ignis gently on the back as he passes.


End file.
